


the intricacies of being akira kurusu

by inquisitivepoetic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Bisexual Kurusu Akira, Cigarettes, Intervention, Kleptomania, Multi, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, everyones a bit weird but akira is so weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitivepoetic/pseuds/inquisitivepoetic
Summary: A series of snapshots about the strange, eccentric qualities of the leader of the Phantom Thieves that you wouldn't notice at a glance.He's more of a weirdo that he lets on.





	1. kleptomania is a boy's best friend

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write a big "the gang goes to rocky horror" thing but I couldn't get myself to do it. Then I had the idea for this. There will be more. (This is almost entirely self indulgent. Might get a bit romantic. Maybe not. But Akira is definately bi you can't argue with that. And it will become relevant soon.)

Akira, as the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves, had quickly developed many skills to carry the team. He had  almost supernatural senses, lightning quick reflexes, and swift, adept fingers. He got used to the repetitive motions needed to pick a lock or pilfer treasure and knew them by heart. The Metaverse was a dangerous place, and slight of hand came in handy to navigate it.  
  
It was when he was back in the real world that his sneaky digits became a hazard.  
  
As he was leaving his shift at Triple 7, he caught sight of a new stand by the cash register. Only a hundred yen for a strawberry chapstick. That hadn't been there before, had it? He picked one up, tossing it around in his hands. He didn't really need one, though. He walked out the door and Morgana hopped back into his book bag as he had done so many times before. As he was walking through Shibuya station, crossing to the platform for Yongen-Jaya, a voice piped up from behind him.  
  
"I didn't think you were the type to use lip balm, Joker." Morgana teased.  
  
He looked down at his hands and noticed that he still had the chapstick in his hands.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Ah, well. He told himself he'd slip one hundred yen in the register at his next shift. And that it wouldn't happen again.  
  
-  
  
Ryuji didn't expect to walk into Leblanc for an evening gaming session and see anything different than usual. Boss behind the counter, finishing up for the day. Morgana prowling around like he owned the place. Akira chilling out, possibly reading or doing some homework.  
  
Instead, there was no-one there.  
  
"Hey, Akira? You here, dude?" He called up to the loft, and heard an affirmative mumble. He climbed the stairs and pushed open the door.  
  
Inside, Akira was leaning out of the window, smoking a cigarette. He looked straight out of "A Streetcar Named Desire" or something. (Not that Ryuji actually read the play for class. He just watched the first five minutes of the movie online and got bored.) His room smelled smokey, and he saw a red carton of cigarettes on the desk.  
  
"Dude, Boss is gonna be pissed if he finds out you stole his cigs." Akira turned around at that, tapping the ash off the ledge. Ryuji settled himself on the sofa, tossing up his legs.  
  
"I didn't steal them." He retorted, pausing for a moment. "Correction, I didn't steal them from Boss."  
  
The boy on the sofa raised an eyebrow. "Dude, don't tell me..."  
  
"I couldn't help it. Boss asked me to get him some from the little kiosk down the street." He crossed his arms, stubbing what was left of the cigarette on the windowsill. "He gave me a note and everything. I didn't even know I'd stolen them until I got back here and took them out of my pocket."  
  
Ryuji pondered for a second, taking one from the carton and pinching Akira's (also stolen) lighter. If he didn't, Akira would probably think he was lame. "You're so weird, bro."  
  
When the blonde stopped coughing and spluttering, and after he had vowed never to let those foul ash cylinders touch his lips again, he gave Akira back his lighter.  
  
Akira, once again, told himself he wouldn't steal anything anymore. _Surely_ he'd be able to control himself.  
  
-  
  
"I think I have a problem."  
  
The whole gang crowded around him, looking at him as he sat on the floor and gestured to his collection.  
  
Three cartons of cigarettes (half finished), a mini bottle of vodka, eighteen ballpoint pens, a woolen scarf, a hotel hairdryer, six rings, one genuine diamond necklace, three credit cards, two empty wallets and a suit jacket. Not to mention all the snacks.  
  
" ... you need an intervention." Ann looked on in disappointment.  
  
"It's not like I'm doing it on purpose." Akira rubbed the back of his neck. "It just kinda... happens. I think we're spending too much time in the Metaverse."  
  
They all looked at him in total silence. What were they supposed to say? Makoto hung her head in her hands.  
  
"Well, you can't exactly give them back." She muttered.

The silence was heavy. Until Ann picked up the diamond necklace.  
  
"I'm keeping this." She stuffed it into her pocket. "... What? It's not like I was the one who stole it."  
  
"If we're calling dibs, I get some of the rings. Gonna pawn them off and get some grilled eel!" Ryuji picked them up off the floor, fantasising with glee about treating his mother to dinner.  
  
"... my hairdryer broke and I haven't had the time to get a new one." Makoto slipped it into her bag, sheepishly smiling to herself.  
  
"And I heard about using alcohol and paints together to create a more dreamlike effect." Yusuke grabbed at the bottle.  
  
They all stood there for a minute before bursting out in laughter and starting a mile-a-minute conversation. Akira lit a cigarette  (he would probably hate himself in a few years when he had lung cancer, but whatever.) and took a few drags before looking at his dysfunctional little family of thieves, fighting over loot like magpies.  
  
All he needed to worry about was what the everloving fuck he was going to do with all those ballpoint pens. And the twenty other chapsticks he had stolen that month.  
  
Shit, he really did have a problem.  



	2. what's your deal, dude?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann and Ryuji have a heart to heart about the many things they've noticed being friends with their leader. 
> 
> (Around early/mid August, before rescuing Futaba)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna put this up tomorrow but 1) i'll be ridiculously busy 2) if I left it I'd go wild and delete it and 3) I just really want to put it out here or i'll feel antsy
> 
> Enjoy!

"C'mon, dude. Either he's fakin' being a put together smart guy, or he's pretending to also be a hot mess."  
  
Ryuji sat on the rooftop of Shujin Academy with Ann, a considerable rain pattering down onto the metal awning above them. Their leader was at work today, at the flower shop, and had let them know he wouldn't be joining them.  
  
Ann leaned against a wall and tossed her phone in her hands. "But why would anyone pretend to be a quiet subconscious kleptomaniac who's either suave and charming or a complete deadpan, obsessive weirdo with no inbetween? He didn't sleep for a week to make smoke bombs when we were infiltrating Madarame's palace, and the only time I actually saw him out of school or the Metaverse was when he was trying not to sob into a free refill coffee cup at the diner."  
  
"True," Ryuji pondered, "but have you considered that maybe he just takes the Phantom Thieves more serious than the rest of us?"  
  
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Ryuji nursed a soda from the vending machine, and Ann fiddled with her hood.  
  
"You know what he did the other day? He walked past me in the underground mall, and when I asked if he wanted to hang out," she leaned closer to the other blonde, "and he just muttered, 'Can't today, Ann. Gotta take Yusuke to church or he's gonna lose his defensive capabilities.' What the hell does that even mean?"  
  
"He hasn't brought you to the confession booth in Kanda yet? You just sit in there for ten minutes and when you come out your Persona remembers how to use a skill or something." He crossed his arms and set down the can, now barely above a whisper. "I thought it was a sex thing at first, but he just sat there in the pew until I came out."  
  
"Oh my god, I thought I was the only one who got a weird kinky vibe from him!" Ann laughed, relieved that she wasn't alone. "I was so sure he was gonna bring Yusuke to a sex dungeon or something."  
  
"He probably still did. They basically eyebang each other every five minutes."  
  
"But Akira does that to us all. Even Makoto. Even you." She smirked at him.  
  
They stared at each other and swiftly moved on. When Ann checked the time on her phone, she saw a message from Akira.  
  
"Meet me in the alley next to the airsoft shop. Bring a bag big enough to fit 3 model guns, a whip and a massive mace. Bring some snacks. We're going on a rampage."  
  
Three dots.  
  
"Also, I left my copy of Love in the Time of Cholera on my desk. Can you bring it?"  
  
They both sighed.  
  
"He's so weird."  
  
-  
  
They strode up to their classmate when they had got the things he asked for. He was leaning outside of Untouchable (Ann didn't even like coming to the alley in front of it, let alone the shop) with a brown paper bag hanging out of one hand and itching his neck with the other.  
  
"Did you bring my book?" He asked, outstretching a hand to get it.  
  
"Yep. I read the blurb." Said Ryuji. "Didn't know you were into that girly shit."  
  
"It's not 'girly shit'," Akira snatched the book out of his hands, stuffing the worn and well-loved paperback into his bag, "it's a beautiful and haunting tale of love, loss, and how they complement each other like two sides of the same coin."  
  
Before they could reflect on what he had just said, he began shoving the weapons into Ann's bag of gym clothes. They were both amazed at how he could afford all that stuff. He saved his own gun for last, lovingly gazing at its matte black body.  
  
"Gave her to Iwai to upgrade." He spun it around on his finger, hair falling into his eyes as he excitedly twirled it. "He did a great job taking care of her. Like always." He gave it a little pat and mumbled an "I love you" before gently placing it inside and zipping the bag up.  
   
Another thing about Akira? He treated all his guns like children. Anyone other than Iwai or himself touching his babies - unless there were special circumstances - was pretty much punished by death. Like when Ryuji tried to have a go at using a pistol for once, instead of his shotgun. He still can't look at orange juice the same way as before.  
  
Only a few steps into their journey to the hideout, after Ann hadtexted the group to let them know they would have to meet up, Akira did something weird again. 

  
"Gimme a minute."  
  
He just stood completely still, staring into the corner of the alley, no expression on his face. His grey eyes were glazed over and his hands hung heavy at his sides. To anyone who didn't know him, it would look like he was having a stroke.  
  
To Ann and Ryuji, this was just a regular - albeit annoying - occurrence.  
  
"C'mon, dude." Ryuji moaned, completely exasperated.  
  
"Ugh."  
  
"Do we just leave him?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"... can I steal his cigarettes? I wanna know how mad he'll be."  
  
"No, Ryuji!"  
  
And so they waited.  
  
And waited.  
   
And waited.  
  
Until he turned around, flashed a small smile, pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and ushered them off with him.  
  
God, he was a handful, but god, could he make you forget how much of a handful he was with so little effort.  
  
Damn him.


	3. the yoga dillema part 1: how many phantom thieves does it take to ruin a fairly good idea?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang are dragged along to a session to try and affect their thievery, and maybe even everyday lives, in a productive, positive way.
> 
> It's obvious how badly that could go.
> 
> (Set some time after completing Okumura's dungeon but before the deadline.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me long enough hhhhhahhha
> 
> Part 2 will hopefully come soon but I'm unreliable and tired and busy so don't expect much from me 
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this! Much love!

Ryuji awoke suddenly to his curtains being thrown open, his light being turned on, his blanket being ripped off and his friend standing at the end of his bed. Wearing shorts and carrying a sports bag.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart. C'mon. Get up."

The blonde took a few seconds to compose himself. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Akira raised an eyebrow, as if asking why that was even a question. "Waking you up."

"W-why?!"

"Because I need you to meet me at the gym at 6:40."

Ryuji fumbled for his phone, instead finding the wooden floor beside his bed with a crash. He rubbed his head and switched on his phone, checking the time.

"Dude, it's 6 in the morning! What the hell?!" He clambered to his feet, suddenly hyperaware that he was in his boxers.  _Please don't have moring wood please don't have morning wood please don't have morning wood_ he prayed.

"You weren't answering your phone last night so I had to come now to wake you up. I used the key under your mat. The others are all on their way, so you should probably get moving."

Ryuji looked back at his phone, noticing 14 unread texts. All from Akira. All saying "Gym. Tomorrow. 6:40." And by the time he had looked back up, discount-teenage-punk-batman was gone with the wind. He picked up a bag, stuffing it with gym clothes and slipping it over his shoulder with a deep sigh. He was never going to catch a break.

-

He turned up in front of the gym 5 minutes late. Everyone was standing in the doorway. Futaba was muttering to herself as she typed on her phone, obviously annoyed by something. In fact, the general atmosphere of the group was one of annoyance and exhaustion. Ann rubbed here eyes, her eyeliner from yesterday smudging even more along her face. Makoto tried to seem like she wasn't yawning. And Haru? She was literally falling asleep leaning against the pillar. Akira simply seemed to be enjoying it, drinking a bottle of water and stretching.

"You all look like shit. What's goin' on?" He covered his mouth and stifled a chuckle when he saw Yusuke in spandex leggings.

"What's going on is that Akira is dragging us all to a morning yoga class."

Ryuji stood silently for a little while, noticing that everyone else was cradling foam mats. And Akira was tossing one in his direction.

"Nope. No. Hell no, I am not doing yoga. What the eff, dude?!"

Yusuke hung his head. "Can you please stop yelling? I didn't get much sleep last night," he rubbed his temples, giving Ryuji a look, "because the music students next door seem to forget the walls are thin."

"Yikes. That's rough." Ryuji gritted his teeth.

"Yes. It was very rough." Yusuke only barely chuckled because if he didn't he would probably have cried.

Makoto rubbed her head and looked at their leader, pleading. "What's the purpose of this, anyway? We get enough exercise as it is. And it's a Sunday! I'm sure we all have things we need to do."

"How many of you have pulled a muscle in Mementos in the last month?" He asked, crossing his arms. Makoto, Yusuke, Haru, Ann and Ryuji all raised their hands sheepishly.

Akira smiled smugly. "Exactly. Come on, the class is starting soon."

Futaba shoved her phone in her jacket and folded her arms. "I'm not going."

"C'mon, Futaba. If we have to do it, then you have to as well." Ann placed a hand on the ginger's shoulder, starting to pull her along.

"No! Please, Akira, don't make me go!" She started kicking and yelling, shaking her head.

"Please, Futaba, stop yelling." Makoto tried to calm her down, to no avail. "We might get kicked out."

"I don't care! I'm not doing it! You can't make me go!" She wailed, plopping onto the floor and batting everyone's hands away.

"Futaba." Akira grabbed her shoulders. "I'll take you shopping in Akihabara and buy you anything you want if you do this for me."

"Really?" She was suddenly beaming.

"Within reason." He itched the back of his neck, remembering his light wallet after paying for all the yoga mats.

"... Fine. But you guys are a bunch of assholes." She muttered, standing up and picking up her things. "Just picture the figures, Futaba. Just do it for the figures."

-

After having a group meeting in the lockers and setting up their mats, there were three conclusions that could be made.

One: Ryuji had a raging hard on for the instructor, or yogi, or teacher, or whatever the hell they were called - none of them were entirely sure. She had, according to him, "a ridiculous rack, an ass like two basketballs and thighs you could just dive into." So he wasn't going to get much out of this. Makoto, though she didn't want to admit it, was also a little distracted. And Akira was just focusing all his energy on how best to get them all to stop trying to bang the poor lady.

Two: There was no limit to Yusuke's passion for art. Not even when Futaba was caught in the complicated straps of the sports bra Ann had bought her, trying to roll out a mat that kept rolling back in, and on the verge of real, actual, genuine, stop-laughing-and-help-me-ryuji-fuck-you-i'm-going-to-die-in-this-mat-and-it's-all-your-fault tears. Yusuke would be calling that piece "the cycle of despair".

Three: None of them actually knew what they were doing at any given time, Akira included.

They all sat on their mats, looking at each other with fear.

"Namaste." The teacher pressed her hands together in a praying motion. Her expression was soft, and her slightly gravely voice was soft and soothing. Akira would have been thinking about asking for her number after class, but was too distracted by the guy sitting in front of him with rippling abs and really nice biceps and a great tan and tight fitting clothes and-

"Like you're one to talk about getting preoccupied." Futaba leaned over to him and chuckled, snapping him our of his reverie.

"I have an excuse. Those abs are like a washboard. I need to ask him where he works out so I can train there. Or where he lives. Or wether he wants to marry me-"

The teacher placed a slender finger in front of her lips. "I understand we have some new souls joining our class. I'm so glad we're welcoming you into this group journey to inner peace, but I think it would benefit us all if you adhered to the no talking rule."

"Oooh, Joker's in trouble..." Ann whispered from behind them.

The instructor stood up and lifted her hands above her head, stepping to the top of her mat, bending over ("Makoto- Makoto you're meant to be focusing- Makoto!") and jumping back into the downward dog.

Yusuke looked on in horror as she performed a sun salutation. Did people actually enjoy this? His legs were shaking. How was he meant to keep himself up? And this is the first position? They all exchanged looks with eachother as Haru tried not to rip a hole in her mat.

Akira was no longer sure that this was such a good idea. But he'd already paid more money than he should have for this whole thing so they were going to see it through, god dammit.


End file.
